


Those who dwell in dust

by MerridewIves



Category: In the Flesh (TV), The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Becomes explicit in later chapters, Crossover, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-20
Updated: 2015-02-14
Packaged: 2018-03-08 07:44:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3201098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MerridewIves/pseuds/MerridewIves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All Bilbo Baggins wanted to do was help those in need in the small, barren town of Erebor and turn his mundane life around. What he didn’t expect when he applied for the program of looking after PDS sufferers was being assigned to an imprisoned radical by the name of Thorin Durin, given the name “Oakenshield” by the Undead Prophet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Reluctance

Bilbo Baggins wasn't sure how after the Rising he'd managed to remained utterly ordinary, borderline boring at times. Zombies... Rotters... now strictly reffered to as PDS sufferers, had roamed the world and despite that, he had managed to stay true to a routine established way before any ressurected dead men begun terrorizing the world. It made Bilbo wonder if he was, in actuality, any different from them-- True, the grocery store “Bag End“, a legacy left to him by his dearly departed mother, had been ransacked by survirors and those of the Human Volunteer Force, overall nothing had changed for him. He didn't blame any of them; everyone was in dire need during those times, but it had taken a while after peace had settled in to stock up the shop again. So he focused all his efforts into it, on tidying it up and restoring it to what it once was. After all, he owed it to mum, but after a while Bilbo realized how far he had indebted himself to someone that was never even going to see the debt repaid. 

So he mulled over his options of what to do, whether to leave his hometown for good and finally finish that novel he was working on or just leave for a while until he sorted his head out. He was thirty seven, for God's sake! He wasn't old, he wasn't dead nor undead for that matter. A whole life spent behind a counter, forcing a smile and watching his behaviour... Just the thought of it tugged on his insides as if beggining him to lash out, to scream, be anything but appropriate. Bilbo wondered if perhaps that's what the PDS folk felt like-- They were all constantly medicated now, didn't ravage villages or attack any human within reach. Perhaps deep down inside though they were still hungry. 

The bell rang sharply as the door of the shop swung open and Bilbo broke away from his thoughts to look up at the customer with a wrinkle of his nose and a well practiced smile. But when he recognized the old man that entered, his smile faded and his expression turned into one of genuine delighted surprise. 

“Gandalf...?“

The old man slipped the hat from his head as he approached the counter, smartly dressed in a suit with vibrant blue tie. It was apparent he wanted it to match his eyes, but no one could fault Gandalf Grey for anything whenever he smiled—and to be sure, he was smiling at the moment.

“Bilbo Baggins.“

Bilbo didn't hesitate. He laughed as he walked around the counter and hugged the old man tightly. An old friend of his mother's, Doctor Gandalf Grey was always welcome at their household and despite his inherent nosiness, the man always meant well and Bilbo never hesitated in confiding to him. 

“Sorry if I'm disturbing you, dear boy.“

“Not at all. I was about to take a break, actually.“

He wasn't really and there was a glint in Gandalf's eye that said he knew so as well, but he merely nodded and let Bilbo turn the sign at the door from _'OPEN_ ' to ' _CLOSED_ '. 

“Tea?“ Bilbo asked as he slipped into the back room.

“Always.“

The back room was cramped, the messy combination of a sort of kitchen and a sort of bathroom, but it was tidy enough and Bilbo made do, busying himself as he filled the electric kettle with water.

“What brings you to my neck of the woods?“ he called out to Gandalf, “You do know that it's still rather dull and uneventful, as far as woods go.“ 

“Oh, I wouldn't say that.“ Bilbo could hear him smiling through his tone and the faint clicking of a cigarette case. He'd have to turn on the air conditioning. Gandalf continued:

“I saw an ad that your clinic was looking for volunteers, to help with the PDS sufferers.“ 

Bilbo flicked the switch on the kettle and took out two cups from the cupboard, as well as the sugar and the tea bags. 

“Oh? Didn't see it, to be honest.“

Gandalf cleared his throat, let out a little cough. Again, as if the old man could read his mind, he very well knew Bilbo had seen it. 

“Don't worry about it, dear boy. You're much too busy here after all.“

The water began to boil. Bilbo wrinkled his nose and briefly drummed his fingers on the dirty sink in front of him. 

“Urm, yeah, yes... --of course.“

Bilbo switched off the kettle, put the tea bags in the cups and poured the hot water over them. Once it was all done, he brought it out on the counter where Gandalf was lighting his rolled up cigarette. 

“You know, I've actually been apointed at a facility to overlook the recovery of a multitude of them. It's up in Erebor, not far from here, actually.“

Bilbo was taking out an ashtray from beneath the counter to place it beside their cups when his curiosity was peaked by a single word; _Erebor_. He had heard of that place. Once a booming mining town, it became a limbo of undead souls when the Rising took place. There were talks of how some of the Rotters were miners, those who died in a great accident six months prior and after the clock chimed midnight, they clawed their way out of the rubble and the coal-- but that was only a story, surely. Hell, the image it conjured up alone made it unbelievable, despite being a tale of a zombie uprising. 

Bilbo lightly blew on his tea and took a careful sip. 

“You're going to oversee how many exactly?“ he asked, trying to sound as casual as possible. Despite the regularity of it, it was still odd. 

“So far, there's a total of about fifty of them. Naturally, I'll be assigned to a select few, keep track of their treatment and their progress and once I deem it ready, send them back into society.“ 

Gandalf blew out a whisp of smoke and slid his cigarette case over to Bilbo who gladly accepted. He was trying not to show it, but his gaze was keen and his interest had been peaked. Gandalf merely smiled as Bilbo lit his own cigarette and leaned in a bit closer over the counter. 

“You're not--...?“

“Not what?“

“You're not _afraid_ of them, are you?“

Gandalf's smile seem to twitch just for a brief moment. Dissapointment. But he said nothing, smiled again and shook his head. 

“They're people, my dear Bilbo.“

“People who ate _people_.“ 

“You do understand they couldn't control themselves?“

“I know, I know, but...“ Bilbo scratched the back of his neck, exhaled the smoke from his nose, “You can't tell me it's not a _little_ unsettling.“

“Have you spoken to any of them?“ 

“Urm, no.“ 

“Then how can you know it's unsettling to be in their presence?“

“I've seen enough of them during the Rising, thank you very much.“

“Not then-- _Now_. How can you know it's unsettling _now_?“

Bilbo flicked the ash from the end of his cigarette as Gandalf idly watched him, picking up his cup to take a languid sip. Bilbo had no answer so Gandalf spoke again:

“Fear of the unknown, that's all it is. Their biology, their chemistry is different, but while medicated, they are like you and I-- very much human, capable of thought and emotion.“ 

Bilbo again stayed silent, shifting a bit in place, visibly embarassed. Gandalf merely tilted his head to the side with clear sympathy in his eyes.

“It's good to be afraid of monsters, dear boy, but the trick here is they're not the monsters people should be afraid of.“ 

Perhaps there was a point to Gandalf's words. The man had always been wiser than most and Bilbo knew it ever since he was a child. While a tiny part of him wanted to rebel and argue, Bilbo found himself nodding at his words. Gandalf snubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray and took another sip of his tea. 

“I should be heading off.“

Bilbo's expression fell. 

“But you only just got here.“

“I need to drive to Erebor; I have a meeting with the chief of staff. We need to organize the volunteers that are signing up to help at the facility.“ 

“There are gonna be volunteers there?“

“Oh, yes. Granted, we haven't received many applications, but we still need to review them and make a selection.“

Bilbo nodded and an odd silence filled the room as Gandalf simply stared at him. There was a point to the stare of course, but Bilbo wasn't sure what it was and the longer the silence took place, the more awkward he started to feel. 

“Well, urm... Yeah, good luck with that then.“

That obviously wasn't the answer the old doctor was expecting because he continued to stare for another few moments and he was obligated to say:

“What?“

Gandalf looked like was about to roll his eyes, but then merely took a deep breath and reached into the briefcase he had been carrying. He took out a paper and placed it on the counter-- an application form to volunteer at the Buland facility in Erebor. It was Bilbo's turn to stare. 

“I'm sorry, but what is this?“

“I didn't know you'd forgotten how to read. Shall I do it for you?“

Bilbo wrinkled his nose in annoyance and cleared his throat.

“I can read just fine, thank you very much.“

“Well?“

“Well, what?“

“Will you fill it out so I can take it with me?“

Bilbo let out an increduluous laugh, eyes wide and he shook his head.

“With all due respect Gandalf, but are you _mental_? What makes you think I would sign up for this?“

“Because day in and day out, I hate seeing what you've become Bilbo Baggins.“  
Another silence, though this one felt tense, not awkward.

“I remember when you were growing up, you'd never once settled for less than tidy or proper. You were ready to grab the world by its throat and then... _This_. Settled for life in a shop and closed off from the rest of the world.“  
Gandalf leaned in and Bilbo tensed, eyes now somewhere on the floor. When he had thought about these things, he never once got angry at himself for doing nothing, but now that his own thoughts were being spoken outloud by a dear friend, he couldn't feel more furious. 

“Are you going to keep ignoring what's out there or are you finally going to acknowledge it?“

Bilbo swallowed. He said nothing, didn't even raise his head to look up at Gandalf. The old man said nothing in return, not even a goodbye as he turned around and left the shop, the bell rattling as the door closed. Silence fell again and Bilbo finally lifted his gaze, only to have it settle on the paper in front of him. 

**  
The board room meeting had gone off without a hitch-- Well, at least in part. A few of Gandalf's colleagues, particularly Elrond, expressed conserns with not only introducing volunteers to the patients, but made mention of how Erebor's town council was abject to the facility's work as a whole. Gandalf remained steadfast in his decision, advocating that what the PDS sufferers needed above all else was contact with other human beings. 

“There's a difference between us,“ he said, “And the volunteers we'll be brining in. We're treating them, but these people will be their connection to the outside world and one they will sorely need. Even with the medication, people are still afraid of them and in return, they're afraid of how people will accept them. We need to show them they can and will be accepted again once they walk out those doors.“

Galadriel, doctor Grey's closest colleague, seemed to agree full heartedly and once her vote was given, it seemed to take effect. 

That night, as he was getting settled into his room at the nearby B&B, Gandalf's mobile began to ring and he quickly answered without so much as glancing at the name. Again, it was as if the man knew in advance and smiled widely.

“Bilbo. So nice of you to call.“

“Urm, yeah, sorry if it's late.“

“No, no, not at all.“

“I was wondering...--“

A pause on the other end and brief shuffling. 

“Is urm... Is it too late to sign up for that volunteer job?“

Gandalf grinned.

“Not at all dear boy, _not at all_.“

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- The title comes from "A song of praise", Isaiah 26, verse 19:  
> But your dead will live, LORD; their bodies will rise--  
> let those who dwell in the dust wake up and shout for joy--  
> your dew is like the dew of the morning; the earth will give birth to her dead.
> 
> \- This started out as a graphic that you can see here: http://merridewives.tumblr.com/post/108548856053/hobbit-in-the-flesh-au-all-bilbo-baggins-wanted :))
> 
> \- If you feel so inclined, visit my tumblr :D merridewives.tumblr.com


	2. The Radical

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo arrives in Erebor and learns about the PDS sufferer he will be working with.

Excerpt from the “Erebor Daily Journal“  
[](http://s1173.photobucket.com/user/Marta_Mekovec_de_Carvalho/media/photo1_zpsszsqqsd5.jpg.html) _(...)With the Buland medical facility taking in numerous PDS sufferers, the town council has expressed concern with the potential safety risks. One of its most adamant opposers, the perish's vicar Eurig Smaug was quoted as saying: “Not only must we deal with the living dead in Mirkwood's forests, now we are letting ourselves be bullied into accepting another fifty or so of them to live right outside our doors! We must show them that they are not welcome! We must show them that we will not hide and fear them for the abominations they are!“ The facility is for now closed off to the public and for safety reasons, only staff and family members are allowed on the premises._

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Insanity. That was the best possible explanation for Bilbo's decision; pure, unadulterated insanity. Not only was he leaving the store closed for a month, which if his cousin Lobelia heard wind of there'd be hell to pay, he was going of to volunteer at a PDS medical facility and work with the very people he had been running away from three years prior. Yes, it had to be insanity -- But he had still packed his bags, still closed up shop, and still confirmed his stay at the bed and breakfast the other volunteers were being situated at. Well, he wanted a change and here it was, a regular typhoon of possible bad consequences. Bilbo was doing a good thing, that is he could do a good thing, if only he could convince his consious otherwise. The question to that could only be answered once he started working. 

The trip to Erebor thankfully wasn't too lengthy; Bilbo had never been one for country road and easily got sick. When the road got bumpier on the way to the small mining town, he could feel his stomach churning and upon reaching into his pocket, realized he had forgotten his handkerchief-- another little token from mum, one he always had on him. There was no clearer sign of the impending change that awaited him and Bilbo had to swallow, take a deep breath and close his eyes. The light ache in his belly was still there, but seemed to subside as he let himself slowly breathe. No going back now, he thought to himself. For the rest of the journey he didn't feel ill or uneasy and soon enough, the cab was pulling up beside the B&B. 

A plaque hung above the door, carved into a circular wooden sign-- “The Beekeeper's Bed & Breakfast“. It seemed old and cozy, all red brick walls and faded green roof. The building oozed welcoming vibes, unlike the rest of the town. Around him a mist hung in the air, chilly and foreboding, an entirely unwelcome addition to the growing list of bad premonitions. All of the houses seemed like they were fading away amidst the cobble-stoned streets, the paint from their walls and roofs chipped away. Not a soul was in sight and as the cab driver took Bilbo's bags from the trunk, he briefly wondered if perhaps he'd stumbled into a ghost town. Bags out, Bilbo paid the driver and once he'd grabbed his belongs, huried inside eager to leave the cold streets of Erebor behind him-- at least for the time being.

The man that awaited him at the reception was a large, imposing, but unbeliavably quaint fellow. Bilbo quickly learned from their introductions that he was the owner of the place, a man by the name of Mr. Orson Beorn. He had told him the rest of the volunteers had already arrived, but that as far much he knew as the rest of them were currently out and he could possibly meet them during dinner that evening.

“It's alright,“ Bilbo replied with a smile, "I was planning on taking a short nap first anyway.“ 

Beorn handed him the keys to his room and Bilbo idly twisted them between his fingers.  
“Do you know if Doctor Grey is here by any chance?“ 

Beorn shook his head at the question, “He left early this morning, for the facility up the hill.“ 

Bilbo nodded and lifted his bags from the floor, “Yes, well, right. Thank you.“ 

As he turned to leave, Beorn leaned over the reception desk and called out:  
“Mr. Baggins, I feel I should tell you what I told the others.“ 

Bilbo frowned curiously and turned back towards the man. Beorn ushered him to come closer and Bilbo did so with slight trepidation.

“If you're to go into town, don't advocate that you're volunteering up on that hill.“ 

“What? Why?“

“What do you think?“

Bilbo swallowed; He remembered his own uneasiness about the PDS folks, clutched at his bags, but then cleared his throat and stood a little straighter, trying to convey some sort of confidence,“Look, I'm just here to help those people out, not to cause trouble.“

“You don't look like the trouble making kind,“ Beorn commented with a good natured smile, “But hardly anyone in this town is happy about the opening of that facility and they certainly don't take kindly to those who approve of it.“

“Well, I'll make sure to keep my head down then,“ Bilbo remarked, though there was a hint of a strained tone in his voice. The fact that he had to hide such a thing seemed ludicrous, despite the fact that people's fears could be seen as justified. He said nothing about it though, instead choosing to say:

“What about you? Do you dissaprove?“ 

Beorn snorted and shrugged non chalantly.  
“I, personally, don't really care, Mr. Baggins. The same people who funded that facility paid for your room, and the others, in advance. I've made good business-- I see no reason to meddle in yours.“ 

Practicality and non chalance. Bilbo wasn't sure if he admired Mr. Beorn for clearly not caring what the other townspeople thought or felt some measure of disdain for not taking a side and choosing to remain firmly in the middle by way of business. No matter what he thought though, Bilbo smiled and nodded in reply. 

“I will see you then, Mr. Beorn.“

“Do enjoy your stay, Mr. Baggins.“

Enjoy? Well, that was certainly questionable.

**  
Bilbo tried to ring Gandalf a few times during the day, but got no reply. So he spent half the day cooped up in his room, flipping through channels on the small television or thumbing through a newspaper that was left on the bedside table. It was only a couple of days old, but still, it provided some insight into the town and confirmed Beorn's words from their previous talk. Bilbo also found a map in the bedside drawer, along with a brochure that prompted the reader into taking a scenic walk around Erebor. Besides the town's history museum and archive, there was a hiking trail through Mirkwood woods just outside of town. It seemed rather appealing and Bilbo was always eager for a good walk, but then he remembered the mention of the living dead in the newspaper article and he decided it was probably best to limit his walks up the hill to the Buland facility. 

At around eight that evening, Bilbo's mobile started to ring and he promptly asnwered when he saw Gandalf's name flashing on the screen.

“Bilbo, lad! You settled in, then?“ a friendly voice came from the other end.

“Yeah, yeah. Unpacked my bags, had a quick bit of rest--“

“Good, good; I'm really sorry I couldn't answer your phone calls today dear boy, but things were hectic up on the hill.“

Bilbo shook his head, briefly smiled.

“I figured as much, it's really not a problem.“

“However, I am free for dinner now, will you join me?“

“Here in the B&B?“

“Oh, yes. I've already chosen a table for us, so just pop right down when you are ready.“

Bilbo opened his mouth to respond, but Gandalf hung up and he was left rolling his eyes, albeit fondly. If there was ever a person who always saw his plans come to fruition, it was the good old doctor. Pocketing his mobile, Bilbo went down the stairs and easily enough, found the small dining area of the B&B. True to his word, Gandalf Grey was already sitting at a table in the corner, an open folder in his hands and his eyes fixed on the files containted within. Bilbo approached him as the old man lifted his gaze, his concetrated expression turning into a warm and welcoming one.

"Bilbo.“ Gandalf stood up, closing the folder and putting it aside so he could tightly embrace the younger man. Bilbo smiled, hugged back, then sat down opposite the man. 

“I trust you like your room?“ 

Bilbo nodded. 

“Yeah, the whole place is really swell. Couldn't have asked for better.“

Gandalf took the bottle that stood open on the table and poured each of them a glass. 

“Have you met the other volunteers?“ he asked and Bilbo shook his head.

“No. Spent most of the day in my room just getting settled in, as I mentioned before.“

“No matter, you'll meet them all in the morning,“ Gandalf replied with a smile. “For now, it's best we discuss the PDS sufferer you'll be working with.“

Gandalf handed the folder over to Bilbo and leaned back in his seat.

“I've had one on one consultations with all of the volunteers on their perspective PDS sufferers and to make things easier, I've paired all of you with the ones I thought you'd either get along with the best or might be of the most help to.“

Bilbo nodded, replying, “That seems reasonable.“ 

He opened the folder to glance down at the files contained within. Bilbo's eyes first fell on two photographs that were attached; one of the man while he was still alive, blue eyed, vibrant and the other of his current state: surprisingly, he had managed to attain his handsome features, but his gaze was now unsettling-- yellow eyes staring straight into the lens of the camera as if judging whoever was looking at him. Thorin Durin, died at the age of thirty, of unknown causes. Apparently the man was a coal miner, one that had dissapeared with his two nephews six months before the Rising and then all three reapeared as members of the Risen. A living relative still remained in the town, namely the man's older sister Dis. Bilbo briefly felt an ache in his heart as he thought about the woman. Not only to lose her brother, but her sons as well... Bilbo averted his eyes for a moment and took a sip of wine, Gandalf remaining silent as he continued to read. As he scanned the page, a frown creased on his brow and Gandalf spoke up.

“Everything alright, dear boy?“

“Urm... These notes of yours, at the bottom...?“

“My observations, yes-- What about them?“

Bilbo looked down at them once more, then back up at Gandalf.

“You urm... You call him a radical.“

“Well, he's quite the fanatic, yes.“

Bilbo's face dropped and his stomach briefly churned, but he certainly wasn't on any road at the moment.

“What do you mean he's a fanatic?“ Bilbo promptly asked.

“There is a craze of sorts going around the PDS community; It conserns someone calling themselves the Undead Prophet. We managed to find a website for the said individual, but you can't enter it without a password.“ Gandalf paused and Bilbo stared at him, giving him a pointed look before the old man finally continued:

“Thorin is one of his followers. He calls himself ' _Oakenshield/ _' because the Prophet deemed it so.“__

__Bilbo found himself laughing and put aside the folder with an expression that slipped between increduilty and slight anger._ _

__“ _'Because the Prophet deemed it so_ '? You're putting me in charge of a religious lunatic!?“_ _

__“There is more to this man then fanatisiscm, Bilbo, and you must trust me on that.“_ _

__“It seems like I was wrong in trusting you when I _agreed_ to this lunacy!“ _ _

__Both men went silent and Bilbo chose to down his glass of wine. He wished he had a cigarette about now, but since there was a sign prohibiting it, Bilbo briefly bit on the end of his fingernails instead, letting out an exasparated sigh._ _

__“You say there's more to him,“ Bilbo said, trying not to lash out, “How do you know that?“_ _

__“I can tell.“_ _

__Bilbo frowned and shook his head._ _

__“No. _No_. That's not enough-- I accepted coming here Gandalf, and I believed you when you said that I should speak to these people to see what's beyond their... condition, but if you won't be completely up front with me, I am going to pack my bags _right_ now and leave.“ _ _

__Gandalf said nothing, his expression unreadable, but in the next moment, he was nodding and leaning forward, elbows on the table and hands folded over one another._ _

__“I knew him, while he was still alive,“ Gandalf said, “Granted, I knew his father better, but I had known Thorin well enough to see he was a good and honest man, loyal to a fault when it came to his family. That's why when I found out he was one of the Risen, I asked for him to be transffered here to be under my supervision and care.“_ _

__Bilbo's anger slowly deflated, but he remained silent, prompting Gandalf to speak further, a heaviness now lingering in his voice:_ _

__“I believe that whatever caused his death six months before the Rising made him turn towards this man that calls himself the Undead Prophet. If we can find out what, perhaps we can help him turn back to the man he was once before, if not for his sake, then for the sake of his nephews and his sister.“_ _

__Bilbo deflated at the mention of Dis and the two young men._ _

__“They're also PDS, right?“_ _

__Gandalf nodded._ _

__“Fili and Kili are part of the Risen, just like their uncle; Kili is still bright spirited despite the whole ordeal, but I fear Fili might fall under his uncle's influence.“_ _

__“Why not just ask them about what happened?“_ _

__“I did.“ Gandalf continued, “Neither remember, but I'm sure Thorin does. When I got him riled up, he almost let something slip, but the moment was lost and from then on, he refuses to speak with me.“_ _

__Gandalf now met Bilbo's gaze and he reached out to place a hand over the younger man's wrist._ _

__“I need someone to get through to him and I know you are just the man for the job. For some reason, he is furious and that anger is making him turn towards radicalism. He needs a calming presence, maybe even a challenging one, and I have faith that you are just that, my boy.“_ _

__Bilbo swallowed and looked down at the folder. He rememebered those yellow eyes, fiercly staring back as if ready to devour. The image itself terrified him-- the man could easily do just that, but if Gandalf said there was a kidness there, something buried underneath a monsterous facade, perhaps he was right. Bilbo was unsure if he was the right one to try and pierce through that mask, but maybe, just maybe..._ _

__Bilbo sighed and withdrew his hand, shaking his head.  
“It might not work.“_ _

__Gandalf smiled._ _

__“You're quite right.“_ _

__“He could scare me out the door on the first meeting.“_ _

__“But you won't let him.“_ _

__Bilbo laughed briefly and bit on his bottom lip, meeting Gandalf's excpectant gaze._ _

__“...I can't promise anything, do you understand that?“ Bilbo said quietly._ _

__“I know. But I have faith in you.“_ _

__Bilbo once again sighed and poured himself a glass of wine._ _

__“Oh he's gonna love the fact that I'm an atheist.“_ _

__Gandalf could only laugh brightly in reply and Bilbo did the same, feeling the reaction helped him forget about the slight unease he still felt._ _

___**_

The walls were blank, the light scarse. There was a mirror in the corner that hardly served any purpose; He wasn't going to put on their paint or disguise his eyes with contacts. He was now one of the Redeemed, he needn't hide his true nature. The only thing he needed from his room was the Bible that lay on the bed, the sacred book that brought him and his Prophet together. He could hear his voice even now, quoting words of Isaiah in a tone that suggested both sweetness and power: 

_“ To grant to those who mourn in Zion— to give them a beautiful headdress instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, the garment of praise instead of a faint spirit; that they may be called oaks of righteousness, the planting of the Lord, that he may be glorified. “_

Oak of righteousness-- He had shown his gladness towards those words and the Prophet smiled. 

_“ Then an Oak you shall be. “ He had said to him, “A shield made of the strongest tree to protect the Redeemed.“_

Oakenshield. That was who he was now, free of mortal coil and reborn from dust-- None that held him now could convince him otherwise, not one of them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Eurig is a Welsh name which means "gold"  
> \- Orson originated as an old nickname meaning "bear cub". So yeah. Beorn is called "Bear cub Bear". Ooop.  
> -If you feel so inclined, visit my tumblr :D merridewives.tumblr.com
> 
> Thank you for all the kudos, bookmarks and comments so far :D And a special thank you to my beta Ruu <3 Her profile's over here: http://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyscaleHyena/pseuds/GreyscaleHyena


	3. Meeting a caged animal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo's first encounter with Thorin Durin does not go quite as planned.

[](http://s1173.photobucket.com/user/Marta_Mekovec_de_Carvalho/media/radio_zps5mbsfx29.jpg.html)

 

It was just after four in the evening when Bilbo arrived at Buland for the first time. If the look from downhill hadn't been forboding enough -- Bilbo realized that the facility looked no less haunting up close; high white walls with oddly shaped glass windows, sharp barbed wire and too many warning signs to count were only part of the charm. 

Everything about the place suggested to turn away and never looked back but here was Bilbo, getting checked by the security at the gate for both identification and possible weapons, daring to go into the belly of the beast. Once he got his ID back and proved to be very much unarmed, unless a small bag of biscuits could count as a loaded weapon, Bilbo said his goodbyes to the security guards up front and ventured inside. 

The halls were no less blindingly white then they were outside. It smelled and felt sterile, utterly uninviting, unless the clear promise of seeing a multitude of diseased people was welcoming to anyone. Bilbo approached the reception desk where a small blonde woman sat and offered her a small smile. 

“Urm, hello. I'm looking for doctor Grey? I'm one of the volunteers and I have an appointment with a PDS patient I'll be working with.“ 

The blonde woman looked up at him without a word, picked up the telephone at her side and punched a few numbers before patiently waiting. Bilbo didn't understand why she wasn't saying anything, but continued to smile politely. 

“Yeah, doctor Grey there?“ she remarked, idly twirling the cord of the phone, “There's a volunteer here-“

“Bilbo Baggins.“ Bilbo whispered and the receptionist gave him a sharp look for interrupting her, but then non chalantly looked away as she continued to speak into the phone:

“A Bilbo Baggins.“ 

Silence stretched out for a few moments and she nodded before hanging up the phone. She didn't even look up at Bilbo as she pointed with her pen behind her. 

“Take that elevator over there. Third floor, he'll be waiting for you.“

“Thank you.“

Bilbo didn't receive a reply, but then again he wasn't expecting one, and headed straight to the elevator. A few seconds of silence within an enclosed space passed and Bilbo was on the third floor, the doors of the elevator opening to reveal long sections of corridors and rooms, giving the impression of a prison filled with light, glass and white walls. It was disconcerting to say the least. The fact that the corridors were empty now made it all the more unsettling. 

“Bilbo!“

Bilbo snapped out of his thoughts, startled for a moment, but was quick to smile when Gandalf approached him. 

“Afternoon, Gandalf.“

The two men shook hands and Gandalf ushered him to follow. 

“We're all in the board room. You'll get to meet the other volunteers and you'll all get your schedules. After that, you'll be taken to have your first session with your patients.“ 

Bilbo nodded as he followed Gandalf and absently tapped on his leather bag that he carried on one shoulder. The folder of one Thorin Durin was inside and he had been mulling over it the night beforehand. He wasn't sure what to expect and that only left him anxious. But he would do it, he'd manage somehow. Maybe there was some reason to be found in that man, like Gandalf had said. 

“Right through here.“ 

Bilbo slipped through the door into the conference room first and Gandalf followed. There were a few people seated at the table, chatting away until Gandalf cleared his throat to catch their attention. 

“Afternoon everyone! This is our latest addition to the group, Mr. Bilbo Baggins.“ 

“Hi.“ Bilbo gave an awkward small wave and some of the vounteers greeted him back, while the others didn't seem to care. 

“Take a seat, Bilbo.“

“O-Oh, right.“ 

Bilbo sat down a the first chair he saw, next to a smiling man with a dark moustache. He was the one that had greeted him back, Bilbo noticed and offered his hand.

“Bilbo.“

“Pleased to meet you; Name's Bofur.“ The two men shook hands as Gandalf scribbled away something on the transcluscent board behind him. 

“And where are ya' from, Bilbo Baggins?“

“Hobbiton.“

“Oh, I've been there a few times. Cute town.“

Bilbo smiled, his unease pushed aside a bit in Bofur's presence. The man himself was utterly relaxed, leaning back in his chair and smiling without a care in the world. The other volunteers didn't seem to phased either. It made Bilbo wonder if he was the only one scared to come face to face with the PDS sufferers. 

“What about you?“ Bilbo asked.

“I'm a local actually. Ereborian born and bred.“

“Oh, really?“

Bofur grinned from ear to ear.

“We can have a drink later after we're done for the day. If there's anything good about this town, it's the two pubs we have.“ 

Bilbo snorted and found himself smiling as he nodded. 

“That'd be fantastic actually, sure.“

Gandalf cleared his throat and Bofur pursed his lips, shaking his head.

“Oh no, the teacher's mad.“

“Mr. Bofur,“ Gandalf remarked sternly while Bilbo bit on the inside of his cheek to try and keep himself from laughing like a child. He had a feeling he'd like Bofur. 

“Now, lets get started; Welcome everyone to the Buland facility. We've all already met on our one on one consultations, so this is more of a formality then anything, as well as to give you your schedules for the the next two months.“

Gandalf opened up a folder that lay in front of him and started to hand out papers around the table.

“Pass it along. There we go.“

Bilbo looked down at his once it reached him. All things considered, it was a reasonable schedule-- The meetings between him and Thorin would take place on Wensdays and Fridays at half past four PM and on Sundays every other week at 3 PM. 

“Hopefully that's not too gruelling for any of you,“ Gandalf said and offered a sile to all volunteers, “Now, when you go and meet your assigned patients, be sure not to show any manner of disgust, fear or even pity. I know you all volunteered to help, but that doesn't mean you might not be startled by your first sight of them. We are all human after all, so please, do be careful with how you conduct yourself.“

Gandalf clapped his hands and took a deep breath. 

“Alight then; Lets head out. The numbers of the patients' rooms are labelled both on top of your schedules and in the files you received earlier. Good luck.“ 

All of the volunteers began to stand and Bofur motioned for Bilbo to follow him out of the conference room. He turned back towards Gandalf who nodded at him with a reassuring look and all he could do was smile back and hope for the best. Once outside, Bofur pointed towards a corridor on the left.

“Ours are right there.“

Bilbo raised an eyebrow in confusion. 

“How do you know that?“

Bofur showed him his own schedule and pointed to the room number which read '206'.

“I saw yours was 207.“ Bofur said with a non chalant shrug, then grinned as he added, “Plus, when you're late to the party, you miss the tour of the place.“

Bilbo briefly blushed in slight embarassment as he walked with Bofur. He took note of security placed along the corridors to guard the doors. 

“It just took me a while to decide, you know?“

“Oh, I don't blame you. Most people are scared shitless of the PDS-- Doctor Grey hardly got the lot of us, he did.“ 

Bilbo peered over Bofur's shoulder to glance down at the name on the man's schedule.

“Oin? That one yours?“

“Aye,“ Bofur said with a nod, “Poor man's deaf and I was the only one of the volunteers who knew sign language. Can you believe that? You come back from the dead, are cured from being a garggling corpse and are still left with shit hearing-- Or none for matter.“

Bilbo chuckled and Bofur smiled, stopping at their designated rooms. 

“It was nice to meet you, Bilbo.“

“You too, Bofur.“

“I'll wait for you outside at the gates once we're done, alright?“

Bilbo readily nodded and Bofur winked, turning to the guard in front of room 206. While they engaged in conversation, Bilbo walked over to room 207 and took a deep breath.

“ID?“ the security guard asked and Bilbo hastily nodded, taking it out of his pocket and handing it to the guard. The guard checked the list and once he confirmed Bilbo was on it, he handed him back the ID. 

“Good luck, Mr. Baggins,“ He said with a voice devoid of emotion as he unlocked the door and opened it, “You're going to need it with this one. Shout if you need anything.“

Bilbo resisted the urge to glare at the man. He was nervous enough as it was, but like always, Bilbo Baggins chose to fall back on a forced polite smile and entered the room. The closing of the heavy door behind him briefly startled him, but then he cleared his throat, straightened up his posture and was at last greeted by the sight of Thorin Durin. Well, his back to be exact. 

Thorin was tall, imposingly so, and underneath the white T-shirt he wore it was evident how strong he was too. Not even a clear look of the man was enough to leave Bilbo intimidated. He kept his feet firm though, posture straight. On the inside of the palm of his right hand lay something that looked like a festering wound, red, raw and open, but not bleeding. The sight was an unnerving one. 

Bilbo wasn't about to show he was afraid-- putting on a poite smile, holding Thorin's folder close to his chest, he spoke up:

“Afternoon, Mr. Durin. I'm Bilbo Baggins-- I believe doctor Grey's spoken of me.“

Thorin remained where he was, silent, and Bilbo cleared his throat. No, this wasn't going to be an easy meeting, but he was adamant on remaining calm and polite. He sat down on a chair opposite the lone bed in the room, eyes fixed on the man's back.

“I'm part of the volunteer group that's come to work with the PDS and I've been assigned to you by doctor Grey.“ 

Again, Bilbo was met with silence and his eyes searched the room. It was barren, aside from a mirror, an intricate key that hung on it and a Bible that lay on the lone bed. Bilbo remembered the mention of Thorin's fixation with someone called the 'Undead Prophet' and quickly presumbed the man's religious fancies had something to do with that particular person.

“They hand out these in every room, like a hotel?“ Bilbo reached out and took the Bible and while he didn't look up at Thorin, he could now feel a pair of eyes intently studying him. 

“We used to have this big, ridiculously gaudy, golden one at our home. Mum and dad were believers, I never got into the thing.“ He began to flip through the pages idly, again making sure not to look up at Thorin. 

“There was one story I liked as a kid, mainly because I thought it was hilarious-- There's a cliff and Moses, I think, is holding a staff and as long as he holds it up, their side is winning a battle in the revene down below.“ He snorted, “And then like, two of the guys that are next to him figure out it might be best if they held his arms for him or something--“

“It's Exodus, 17:11, the battle against the Amalekites.“ 

The voice was low and booming at the same time, authoratitive with an underlying hint of rage. The eyes that were looking down at him were yellow with grey pupils, an equally menacing and intoxicating sight. 

It was enough to make Bilbo's stomach churn, but when he looked up, he managed to keep up his polite smile as if held up by pins.

“Right, Exodus, 17:11.“ Bilbo closed the sacred book in his lap and offered his hand to Thorin. There were a few moments of silence and Bilbo was sure the man would sooner bite his fingers off then accept a handshake. Thankfully, he didn't and merely sat down on the bed opposite him. 

“So...You're Grey's little grocer.“

Bilbo was now sure he'd bite, but he put aside the Bible, slid one leg over the other other and replied with an easy going tone:

“Grocer? Yes. Grey's? No. Little? Well, when compared to someone who seems to be six foot six...“

Bilbo smiled and Thorin seemed to eye him with thinly veiled confusion. At least he had some upper hand in this conversation despite the constant bubbling of dread he felt in the pit of his stomach. 

“So doctor Grey's told you about me?“ Bilbo said, idly opening the folder as if to look through it, simply to keep his eyes focused of off Thorin for now.

“Last time he was in my cell, yes.“ 

It wasn't a cell, but Bilbo made no comment. 

“I thought you two weren't on speaking terms.“

“Never said I talked back.“

Bilbo raised his eyes from the folder. He had heard the grin before he caught sight of it, shifted for a moment in his seat at how it looked on Thorin's pale face, then looked back down at the files in his lap.

“I understand you have nephews here,“ Bilbo said, trying to start up some sort of conversation. “Fili and Kili, right?“

Thorin's expression shifted into a grimace. 

“So what?“ Thorin's voice was a low hiss, but Bilbo continued despite the underlying threatening tone:

“I'm just saying-- Must be nice to have family here.“

Thorin said nothing as Bilbo's eyes ran over the words he had underlined in the files. Under the pink trace of his marker lay the name Dis, the man's sister and Bilbo's expression shifted into something softer, something much more sympathetic. 

“Your sister lives in the town, right?“ Bilbo said as he looked up, “I know families aren't allowed to visit the facility yet, but I'm sure you and your nephews would like to see her as soon as possible.“ 

The way Thorin looked at him Bilbo was sure he was about to snarl and unhinge his jaw to sink his teeth into his neck, but he merely responded quietly:

“Don't talk about my sister.“ 

Bilbo frowned. 

“Why not?“ he prompted. So there was something that could poke the beast to react, so to speak. 

“I don't want to talk about her.“ Thorin growled, “I don't want to talk about anything in fact, especially not with you.“ 

Thorin abruptly stood and Bilbo cursed himself for letting the man see him flinch in his seat. The man towered over him like a spectre and leaned in with a cool and calm, but menacing stare. Bilbo sat utterly still, Thorin's hand grpping the back of his chair as he leaned in like a wild animal. He was wild, wild and mad, and the way his eyes fixed Bilbo's gaze, had the grocer more fearful then ever. 

“I don't need help or companionship from any of you humans,“ Thorin whispered,“I look at every one of you and realize how easy it is to strip away that mortal coil, bury you forever more, because unlike us grocer, you will stay under ground when I take it from you.“

Thorin grinned and his whisper became the hiss of a tempting snake:  
“We are the Redeemed and we will rise above you all, for with our seond Rebirth, that is what we were destined to do.“ 

Bilbo swallowed. If he could have run, he would have, but despite his fear, the grocer wasn't about to let himself cower; He had his own pride after all. With their gazes still locked, Bilbo replied back:

“Is that what you tell yourself whenever you look at your nephews?“ 

Thorin's expression minutely shifted, but Bilbo continued, not letting him speak up:

“They dissapeared, along with you, six months before the Rising. Did they die with you? Is that why you spout these things about being above humans? To console yourself about what your nephews are now?“ 

For a few moments, Bilbo was sure he was on to something. The lines in Thorin's face crinkled. Hints of care and affection shone through on the pale face and something akin to confusion. But those moments didn't last and suddenly, a burst of anger flared in the undead man's eyes. He grabbed Bilbo by the shoulders and hauled him to his feet, the folder along with its files falling on to the floor.

“How dare you?!“ Thorin screamed into his face and it was all it took for the heavy door to open. Two guards ran inside quickly and were pulling Thorin away from Bilbo. It wasn't easy; the man did prove to be quite strong, but as Bilbo hastily picked up the files from the floor, two nurses quickly ran past him to administer some sort of sedative. 

As the tall man's knees nearly buckled underneath him and he went unconciouss, Bilbo quickly slid out of the room, out of breath and heart hammering away in his chest. That... That hadn't gone well. He clung to the files with sweaty palms and had the strength to merely nod at the nurse when he came outside to ask him if he was alright. 

Something that was suppose to be just an exchange had almost turned into something violent and while the fear was still thrumming away in Bilbo's veins, it was followed by something he hadn't felt in a long while. Curiosity. It was deadly to try and continue this path Gandalf had put him on, but it seemed the doctor had been right. He had managed to at least provoke Thorin in some way, take one small step forward into figuring out what had made him this way. For one, it obviously had something to do with his family. He was clearly protective of his nephews and had reasons for not wanting to speak about his sister. 

His sister. Bilbo flipped through the files in his hands and found an adress for Dis Durin in Erebor. He knew the families weren't allowed to make visits yet, but nobody had mentioned the volunteers paying visits to the families. Not to mention there was the key in the room and the odd wound in Thorin's hand. Maybe if he figured out what could have caused it...

Bloody hell, this was all ludicrous. He wasn't 'Miss-fucking-Marple', this wasn't a part of his job. He came here to essentially be a quasi shrink to an insane undead zealot, not to go off and play private detective.  
But if he didn't... Then how would he get through to him? It was all too tempting to try. Bilbo folded the files and pocketed them. Yes, his plan was bonkers and the fact that he was mulling over it with some excitement left him feeling worried for his own sanity. Perhaps he himself was mad. Well, he'd surely know once he got to the bottom of the death of Thorin Durin.

Fuck, he really was Miss Marple.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Sorry it took so long to update. Was sick and busy :((  
> \- This is basically if the first meeting Bilbo had with Thorin was when he was suffering from gold sickness; it's not gold sickness here, but he is dealing with madness and paranoia  
> \- If you feel so inclined, visit my tumblr :D merridewives.tumblr.com


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